“He does.”
Charlie handed me
the phone.
There was a tiny scratch near one corner.
Otherwise, it was fine.
Julian’s lock screen appeared.
A picture from our wedding.
The two of us laughing.
“It’s perfect.”
I looked at Charlie.
“Can I give you something? Gas money? Anything?”
He immediately shook his head.
“No need.”
He turned toward his truck.
Then curiosity got the better of me.
“Charlie?”
He turned around.
“Where exactly did you find it? Julian has been trying to figure out whether he lost it at work or the gym.”
Charlie answered without hesitation.
“Outside the family visitation center downtown. Grant Street.”
My smile vanished.
The phone suddenly felt heavier in my hand.
I knew the building.
A low brick structure on Grant Street.
Small playground outside.
A painted rainbow over the entrance.
It was a place used for supervised visits between children and parents who, for various legal or family reasons, couldn’t
